Confessions of an American Gigolo

By Antuan Miranda

The unpredictable and high-mindedness lover Vincent Damour has it all men wanted: expensive clothes, Jets, women, access to Brooklyns Hot seat establishments, and stable rich life. His seductive and charming personality, it becomes so powerful that he decides to open a secret enterprise for men.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jan 17, 2007
• ISBN: 9781469107752

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Copyright © 2007 by Antuan Miranda.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

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Contents

Confessions of an American Gigolo:

Biography of the author

1

A Shortcut story

2

Vincent’s Secret Letters

GUIDE FOR SINGLE MEN

3

Introduction

4

How you present yourself to women

5

The power of compliments

6

What turns women on?

7

The six ways to make women love you

8

How to romance a woman

9

What turns a woman off?

10

Fundamental techniques to become a good conversationalist in open lines

11

How to make love with an inexperience woman

12

How to make love with a frigid woman

13

How to break up

14

Vincent D’amour:

The enterprise for men

15

Conclusion

For

MERCEDES RUIZ

Confessions of an American Gigolo:

Biography of the author

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Antuan Miranda lives in Florida. He is a freelance writer and responsible for the creation of numerous poems and stories. Since, eight years old, his mind starts to pay more attention to the literary arts. And now, he is an author and a Distinguished Member of the International Society of Poets for many years.

In the year 2001, he had received an International Poet Merit Award Diploma by Elizabeth Barnes; President of the International Library of Poetry, and also a Recognition Medal to his effort and courage to the New Millennium.

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1

A Shortcut story

With some women in this era, you wonder if they’re really interested in love. Some women sketch all over their face a cold fish that make men being rejected by them. Others, just playing games with the simple pleasure of hurt someone. But I realize that the reason of this problem is because so many women have been hurt so much that they don’t know how to take off all that from their heads. That’s why I want to narrate my story. Also, because with all the letters and photos I’ve accumulated in years, I might start to forgotten so many of their names. Even though I remember the faces and places I have been and the full stack of date books that I had kept for several years in my closet. But now, I’m going to reveal my secrets to you even if I threw them all out when I left New York City. But I promise to you that I’m going to try to remember as far back as possible to my first woman. The one who is never forgotten as is the case of some men at my age.

My name is Vincent D’amour, in this is my story. I had born in Brooklyn, New York, in a small apartment on 38th street and 7th avenue, in a lousy city where the people are ants on the streets. My mother as a special lady kept me reading to her, the erotic stories of the Marquis of Sadie, as a non-stop carousel from North Orleans. At that moment I was not allowed to move from the living-room or get up from my chair until I’ve finished read it. But I could eat all the candies I wanted as long as I didn’t make noise or sneeze by turning pages.

Most of the time she walked half-naked in front of me, not to provoke me, but rather to reassure her that I didn’t exist to keep a record of her love affairs in the closet. One night, I went through her belongings and I found a full box of photos and letters along with some very revealing documents: a list of her love affairs with names and dates, a few romantic ferry tickets and a collection of old international checks. But I am Vincent, son of Amanda D’amour. Thirty years later, what was I doing with my numerous mistresses, my lists, my drawers full of photos and an unending collection of checks? Isn’t this story I am going to tell nothing but a detailed list of my mother did too?

Yes, it is.

The day after that incident, she gives me a love letter to mail. She showed me confidence I didn’t deserve it and reached its destination I opened the letter by curiosity and I find the way my mother keeping her lovers in unfathomable mystery. The letter says:

My love,

I don’t understand your silence. I haven’t received a letter from you in two weeks. And I wonder if my golden-mine ever reaches you.

Yours,

Amanda

The mystery of that letter makes me to remember my first erotic experience, the one I cannot forget. It took place in an alley of a brothel. I had waited for a long time on a busy street in Manhattan. Then I chose a woman just as she was walking away from the passers-by. She took me to a room where I waited for instructions or at least for a sign to how to proceed. I was virgin. My veins would swell, and I’d turn pale when she grabbed my arms.

I’d noticed that she was staring at me on the bed as a goddess. She slowly unbuttoned my shirt, while warmly showering me with sweet kisses, working my way down to unzipping my pants and lifting her head over my underwear she drove me wild to her bed.

Thanks to her